What is this feeling?
by Pirate Hatter
Summary: One of the Caribbean's greatest [and bitchiest] sailors comes to Port Royal. She meets the Royal Navy and tears up Fort Charles. Consequently, she has to do community service for the fort afterwards. Norrington, Groves, and Gillette are all here!
1. Arrival

The Caribbean sun rose high over Fort Charles. It was barely eleven o'clock and the temperature had already risen to ninety degrees- and counting. The citizens of Port Royal were used to the sweltering heat but still found it uncomfortable.

Sailors didn't mind it when first docking in the harbor. They had the wind in their hair and the spray on their face. One unlucky sailor went by the name of Sam Winchell- which was really an alias so she could get onto a boat every now and then.

Her tiny boat sailed smoothly until about 100 feet from the dock. It had taken on too much water and began to scrape against the rocky floor of the bay. She was standing on the look out when a nasty jerk nearly sent her into the bay. Sam clung onto the mast for her life as her prized possession slowly and erratically got claimed by the harbor.

One particularly sharp rock undid her vessel completely. The boat shuddered and jerked under Sam and flung her shrieking into the cold, salty water. She resurfaced and spat out the water, only to find a hermit crab had somehow found its way inside her mouth. She spat it out harder and sent it free back into its home. Sam shuddered and began to swim to the dock.

She made it up and shook herself dry, mindful of her hat which held all her hair up. She was approached by a rather ancient looking man, accompanied by his slave boy.

"One shilling to tie up your boat, sir," He said in the coldest tone Sam had ever heard in her life.

"What?"

"One shilling, sir. Docking taxes, you know. I also need your name for the book," Sam looked at the top of the mast of her sunken boat. It soon fell over into the water with the rest.

"I'm not paying for my boat! It's at the bloody bottom of the bay!"

"I need one shilling and a name, _sir_, or I shall have to call the authorities."

"What good would that do? You still wouldn't have my shilling, would ye? Name's Sam Winchell, anyway. Now, I'll be leaving," She started to get up from the dock until she was hoisted up by the docks man.

"One. Shilling. _Sir_," He hissed through clenched teeth. Sam took in this spectacle while assuming a poker-face.

"Damn, you're persistent. Fine, alright, you can have me bloody shilling," She pressed the coin into his clammy hands and walked away. When she was far enough away, she yelled, "Yeh bloody pirate!"

--

Sam reached Fort Charles within the hour. She took in the marvel of iron gates before her. They were guarded by two nameless marines, who she slipped past easily. The fort was something to behold, or at least to Sam. The guards and marines were so on point, strict, and accurate.

"… wonder if they have rum," Sam thought aloud. She suddenly felt a dark presence looming behind her.

"No. There is no rum in Fort Charles," The figure said icily. Sam turned to meet the man, Andrew Gillette.

"Well no wonder they all look bloody bored to death! And here I thought you were training the living dead!" Sam waved her arms frantically. Gillette recoiled a bit but grabbed one flapping arm.

"You are not supposed to be here. I'm taking you to the Commodore," Gillette started dragging her along the cobblestone steps.

"Oh, good. I was hoping for a three-way today," She sighed sarcastically. Gillette gawked at her.

"You do know there is a hanging penalty for sodomy, don't you?" Sam stared blankly at him for a moment but soon realized that she still looked like a man.

"OH! Sorry 'bout that, govnah," She removed her hat and her chocolate brown hair swept down silently. Gillette's grip relaxed a bit, as did the rest of his body.

"I'm not sure if that's any better than if you were a man,"

"You telling me you'd rather had a three-way with two other men?" Sam stared at Gillette who reddened immediately.

"No! I'm saying that I'm not sure which is worse: a man who wants to have a three-way with the Commodore and myself or a woman sneaking into the fort unannounced and uninvited!" Gillette nearly screamed.

"…you don't know which is worse? If I were you (knock on wood), than I would have to say that a man coming onto me would be worse, but tha's just me,"

Gillette froze, eyes radiating anger and frustration. Sam grinned innocently and she slipped out from his grip.

"Nice meeting yeh!" Sam yelled while laughing, as she ran off into the fort. Gillette growled and ran after her.

Sam dashed into the main court and ran up the stairs of the gallows. Gillette was right on her heels, not missing a step of where she went. She jumped off the platform and ducked into a stairway that led to the prison cells. Andrew chased her, screaming after her.

"Where are you…?" Gillette growled behind clenched teeth. He heard a giggle echo through the cobblestone halls. He followed the noise to a corner, looking around it slowly. He was met with Sam's face glowing in the lantern light.

"'Ello, govnah!" She bellowed into his face before sprinting up another flight of stairs. Gillette practically roared with anger and ran after her.

He made a desperate move and flung himself at her on the stairs. He missed but got a tiny grasp on her pants. Gillette pulled as hard as he could and was soon met with Sam's body crashing on top of him. They both crashed into the thick walls, Sam lying on top of Gillette. She quickly recovered and made another move to run up the stairs while Andrew was still getting up.

She sprinted through the fort, dodging past soldiers, marines, and guards, and tore the place apart. She looked back at her mess occasionally and saw Gillette was always at her heels, no matter where she went.

Sam finally got to the catwalk which overlooked the sea. She stopped only a quarter-inch away from falling into the crashing waves bellow and froze on the spot. A second later, a certain lieutenant slammed into her, sending her over the wall.

Gillette shut his eyes tight, not wanting to see her figure get swallowed by the sea. He opened one eye slightly; curiosity had gotten the better of him. He didn't see her precious form hit the water's surface; he only saw four fingers grasping onto the wall as tight as they could. The rest of Sam came after those fingers, as Gillette saw. Pure shock froze him for a moment, unsure of what to do.

"What the hell are you doing?! Pull me up, dammit!" Sam screamed desperately. Gillette came out of his momentary stupor and grabbed Sam's forearm.

"Hand me your other arm!" Gillette grunted. Sam did so (not easily, mind you) and Gillette hoisted her up on the balcony. She collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily.

"Would it kill you blokes to put in a guard rail or something?!" Sam snarled. Gillette glared at her.

"First of all: you were not supposed to be here OR running from me. Secondly: it's decorative and not supposed to have a higher guard."

"You're just a bloody git. All of you are. Seriously."

Gillette growled a bit and glared daggers at Sam. She crossed her arms over her chest and returned the glare heatedly. They might have stood there all day if someone hadn't come to see what all the screaming was about. The man was Lieutenant Theodore Groves.

"Gillette, something wrong? I heard screaming and… who's this?" Groves turned his attention to Sam. She didn't acknowledge his presence what so ever. She kept focus at beating Gillette at this impromptu stare down.

"I don't know her name. She came to the fort uninvited and unannounced. I tried to take her to the Commodore but she ran from me and fell over the wall, here. She's been yelling at me even though I just saved her life," Andrew grunted in reply, all the while keeping focus on Sam. She sneered.

"I wouldn't have needed saving if you hadn't of run into me, ye bloody bastard," she hissed. Groves was immediately impressed by her sharp tongue. He smirked a bit but quickly concealed it.

"Well Madame, it seems that you are charged with trespassing and absconding. Before we can properly try you, I need to know your name," Groves asked gently. Sam smiled inwardly at the man's bluntness.

"Name's Samantha Winchell, or Sam if you prefer. I don't feel in the mood te be 'tried' right now. Maybe after a couple of drinks," Sam stated flatly. Groves could only laugh in response while Sam continued to hold her gaze with Gillette's.

"Well Samantha, I think we should have a word with the Commodore, eh? It'll be quick, I promise. You shouldn't have a terrible punishment, I think. Maybe a couple of hours of community service at most. That's not so bad,"

"Not as bad as what this guy tried to charge me with," Sam pointed an accusing finger at Gillette.

"What would that be?" Groves turned to Gillette for this answer.

"Sodomy," He replied in monotone.

Groves lost all composure at that point. He doubled over in hysterics and laughed until he was red in the face and on the brink of tears. He finally calmed down and escorted both Sam and Andrew to Commodore Norrington's position.

--

"Commodore, sir," Groves announced and saluted to his superior. Norrington nodded and sent away a nameless soldier he had been talking with.

"Groves. Gillette. Who is this?" Norrington raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Sam just glared at Gillette, who was leering back at her. Their gaze had never been broken and they were each determined to out stare the other.

"This is Samantha Winchell, sir. She was found trespassing and then ran away from Lieutenant Gillette," Groves announced. Gillette nodded but kept his eyes locked on Sam.

"Hmm. That is quite an offense, Miss Winchell. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"…" Sam had no reply. She was too focused at beating Gillette.

"They've been like this the entire time, sir," Groves said after a long pause. Commodore Norrington sighed and dismissed Groves.

"So you two have been having a staring contest? Interesting. Who will win? Stubborn as you can be Lieutenant, I think Miss Winchell has the advantage. You must obey my orders and acknowledge my comments, whereas she does not have to do a thing I say. However, I'm not just going to sabotage your attempts, Lieutenant. That would be most dishonorable. Although… it does have a certain appeal…"

"Do not do that, sir. I must win," Gillette said with ice in his voice. Norrington smiled smugly.

"Well good to see your vocal chords are still active. And what of you, Miss Winchell? Hmm? Can you talk, or are you a mute?"

"I can talk just fine, Commo-dork. I just need to show this git who's the boss," Sam sneered.

"Technically, I would be the boss- what did you just call me?"

"Commo-dork, sir," Gillette reported sternly. Sam only nodded. James Norrington grunted disapprovingly.

James eventually made the two end their contest. It was around noon when they had started and Norrington had clunked their heads together near sunset. Sam and Gillette were forced to a truce but neither of them liked it.

Sam was allowed to stay in Norrington's office for the night, since she didn't get the chance to book a hotel and she had to start community service the next day.

"How many hours do I have to serve, again?" Sam groaned while lying bonelessly on a chair in Norrington's office.

"Fifty hours of community service, Miss Winchell," Norrington replied as he admired his sword. It was the gold filigree in the handle he loved the most. It made it seem so regal.

"Fifty? Really? That seems like a lot for just those two offences. What do I have to do?"

"Well, since Mr. Brown is visiting his niece in England, you should go serve a few hours down at the Blacksmithery. Lord knows how Mr. Turner needs some help," Norrington half-scoffed.

"Blacksmiths? Sorry but I don't know anything 'bout them," Sam sighed.

"I'm sure Mr. Turner will explain what you must do for him,"


	2. Community Service

Sam woke up the next morning with her head resting on Norrington's desk and sitting in his chair. She grumbled and remembered she had community service work. She sat up and cracked her aching back noisily when the Commodore himself arrived.

"Good, you're awake. The Blacksmithery opens soon so get ready and I'll send Groves in with some breakfast for you," Norrington offered cheerfully. Sam glared at him with slight intensity. She was used to drifting at sea or waking whenever she pleased.

Groves arrived five minutes later with some fried eggs, bread and jam, and juice. Sam ate the food as slow as she could, to prolong her 'suffering'.

"Miss Winchell-" Groves started

"Enough with the 'Miss Winchell' crap, ok? Ye can all call me Sam… or Sammy if you like," Sam huffed right before she gulped down some orange juice.

"Ok, _Sam_, you should probably hurry up. Mr. Turner is expecting you," Groves said, his voice dead-pan.

"Don' wanna," Sam grumbled through a mouthful of bread and jam. Groves smiled in amusement.

"Yes, well I don't want to wear this scratchy uniform and horrible wig all day but I have to. We have to do the things we are called upon doing, even if we don't want to. Norrington makes such a fuss about his cravat because it chokes him but he wears it anyway. But seriously, what a BABY! He-" Groves rambled until he noticed Sam's horrified look. He turned on his heel to see said Commodore glowering at him in a most unnerving way.

"What were you going to say, Lieutenant? Heaven knows I wouldn't want to interrupt your most _invigorating_ story," Norrington said in mock-enthusiasm.

There was no noise or response from Lieutenant Groves. He inwardly cursed how the rank of Commodore had sabotaged his friend of his sense of humor. The tense silence was broken by a rather loud belch from Sam.

"Oh… 'scuse me. Well, I guess one of you should be escorting me to the Blacksmithery, eh?" Sam smiled warmly. Norrington excused Groves to escort Sam to the Smithery but not without a We'll Discuss This Later, first.

--

Groves and Sam arrived at the shop about half an hour later. Sam had insisted on going down by the docks "only for a minute!" and Groves had agreed. It took him ten minutes to get her to shut up about pointing things out on the boats and conversing with the sailors.

Will was making a J-hook for one of his many woman customers when Sam burst in the wooden doors, screaming something at Groves.

"I AM **NOT** IN LOVE WITH HIM!!!" She shrieked and slammed the doors in the Lieutenant's face. Will stood there, innocent as a babe with the metal in the fire.

"Um… Hello. Are you the one the fort sent for community service?" Will asked meekly. Sam nodded but she was still pissed off at Groves.

A second later, white sparks flew out from the kiln. Will pulled out the iron immediately and swore loudly.

"Damn! Gotta start over," Will got his hammer and started flattening out the J-hook. Sam watched obliviously.

"Why do you have to start over?"

"The sparks mean that the metal got too hot and it's starting to melt. I have to start over… (bang)…(bang)… Actually, I'm glad you're here,"

"Thanks," Sam replied in sarcasm

"No, I mean that I have to put in two twists in this J-hook and that's pretty much impossible with out another person," Will smiled thankfully. Sam continued to look extremely bored. She looked around the forge and spied the donkey lazily munching on some hay.

"You have a donkey," Sam pointed out as if Will were blind. He looked up from the now pointed iron bar.

"Yes… his name is Elijah," Sam snorted in a most unlady-like way.

"Really?" Sam choked out between guffaws

"Yes. Don't ask me what that's about, Mr. Brown named him," Will shrugged as he returned the iron to the fire.

"Alright, this part gets a little tricky. I need to put a hole in the top of the hook, right? I'm going to hand you the hook, take it with the tongs, I'll get my pick, line up the hook and punch a hole in the top. Keep it away from your face and basically any part of you that you value and we'll be ok. During this, the metal is cooling down so we need to work fast and cooperate, are we clear?" Will instructed quickly. Sam snapped out of the haze she was in and nodded dumbly. It sounded easy enough, right?

Wrong. Very. Utterly. Completely. Wrong.

The instant he handed Sam the hook, she grabbed it with her bare hands and dropped it. She shook her hands, trying to stop the burning, while the metal cooled off silently on the floor, now dinged very noticeably. Will glared at Sam.

"You weren't listening," He snarked. Sam returned the glare for a second but soon went back to tenderly blowing on her raw hands.

"Whatever. We can do it again. No big," She shrugged. Will sighed into his hands.

"No big except for the fact that I have a client to get this to and it needs to actually work, you do realize that, right?"

Sam rolled her eyes.

"Fine, if I'm so useless, do it yourself!" She threw up her hands in annoyance. Will sighed deeply in irritation.

"I can't. It's impossible to do something like this with only one person! Unless you tell me how I can grow two more arms in the next couple of minutes, I suggest you actually pay attention when I'm talking to you!"

Sam shrugged and muttered that she would do better, while glaring intensely at the donkey who she decided to call "Gillette". Why?

'_Cos he's a jackass._' Sam thought smugly.

--

Five minutes later, Sam finally got it right. She also managed to help Will put in the two twists on the hook.

Will dipped the new hook into the large basin of water he kept near the fire. A soft hiss was occumpanied by a bit of steam.

"Well, now you're just showin' off," Sam said, crossing her arms over her chest. Will laughed and removed the hook from the water.

At that moment, his customer, Miss Mabel Fargworthy, waddled through the door of the forge. Will immediately pasted on a fake grin that actually didn't seemed that fake.

"Ah, Mister Turner. Thank you so much. Ye get the job down so quickly! Here's your pence. Have a nice day," She curtsied for him and then left the Smithery with her brand new J-hook.

The day proceeded in much the same way. Will would explain Sam's job to her, she'd zone out and pretend to be listening, she'd mess up and say he should do it himself, etcetera, etcetera.

After Sam's hours were up for the day, Groves came to get her. She waved cheekily to Will and prance off with the Lieutenant. Will sighed and went back to rearranging the shop she tore up.

"Did you have fun?" Groves asked lightly. Sam shrugged. They continued to walk in silence. Suddenly, Sam's eyes lit up dangerously. "Oh no…"

"Look, Theo! Boats! Let's got look! Have I ever told you the function of a mooring line?" Sam started to wander off to the docks until Groves caught her by the back of her neckerchief. She gaged.

"I already know all that. Not only because I attended Naval school so I could join the Royal Navy, no, it's also because you told me absolutely everything you knew about boats _this morning_," Groves growled slightly.

"Oh… _right_! I remember now. Good times…" Sam flashed an innocent smile until Groves continued to drag her by her poor excuse for a cravat.

They arrived back at Fort Charles, Sam still babbling everything she knew about boats, sailing, and so forth. Groves dropped her off in Norrington's office and made his way to exit. That is, until he heard a dull whimpering.

"You'we not going to stay wit me, Theo? _Pwease?_" Sam pouted and made her best puppy dog eyes. Groves was softened a bit.

"I would love to… _really_. But I haven to work. That's kind of my job. But… Gillette's break is now. Want me to go get him?" Groves smiled like he was making some sacrifice to Sam, his Pagan goddess. Sam thought about what that might look like.

"_Oh great Samantha!" The crowd proclaimed. Groves stepped forward, his own fit only his breeches and some tribal paint. He bowed before Sam, who was dressed up in flowing silk cloth which accented her chest and ass._

"_Your holiness, we bring you this humble offering to appease your great majesty!" Sam nodded smugly and Groves stepped aside to show Gillette, almost naked and with an apple stuffed in his mouth. Sam grinned and took out her whip._

"_Dance, bitch, DANCE!" She yelled and cracked the whip. Gillette yelped, spat out the apple, and started to dance, and rather badly at that._

"This pleases me," Sam muttered smugly. Groves unfortunately misunderstood and went off to find Gillette.


	3. Innuendo

Gillette arrived in the office to see Sam with her eyes closed and giggling. He stared at her for a moment before narrowing his eyes at her.

"_What_ exactly did you call me in for? I only have an hour long break and I really don't intend to spend it with you," He hissed, his jaw clenched. Sam snapped out of her day dream and stared at Gillette.

"I didn't call you," She replied simply. Gillette continued to glare. "Honestly, I didn't. I mean, why would I? Because you're _fun_? Definitely not. Because you're interesting? Wrong again. Because you're fun to pick on…? Well… actually that last one makes the most sense," Sam smiled innocently but Gillette didn't buy it.

"I'm leaving," He turned on his heel and went to walk out the door when he heard a small cough and sniffle. Sam was hunched over against the desk, shivering. "Oh what the hell is wrong with you _now_?"

"… Jerk," Sam stuck out her tongue. She suddenly looked much better and, in fact, happier. "Let's go to the docks!"

"No. Groves warned me about that,"

"Good GOD! You three are like best friends forever and you all call each other by your last names? That's… really just _sad_…" Sam pouted overdramatically. Gillette was once again, unmoved. "Can we at least get out of this fort? I'm getting cabin fever from being so locked up!"

"You've only been in here for ten minutes," Gillette commented, his voice: hallow.

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm getting cabin fever," Sam scoffed and turned her cheek to Gillette.

"God, you're such a bloody brat!"

--

Needless to say, their fight lasted for quite some time, going much the same way it had been going. One of them would say something, the other would insult them, the former coming up with some retort and the charade would repeat itself.

They finally stopped fighting long enough to head out of the fort quietly (Gillette's break had ended long ago) and walked the filthy streets of Port Royal's docking and lower class market center.

They stopped at a fruit stand to get some snacks. Gillette looked over the grapes and apples while Sam busied herself with the bananas. She selected one that had fallen from another bunch. She looked at Gillette, who was holding up two apples.

"Oh the innuendo," Sam sighed. Gillette was puzzled, but soon realized the lewd conclusion she came to.

"You're disgusting!" Gillette put his fists on his hips, the apples still in each hand.

"Hold up your fingers to make an L, if you please," Sam asked politely (one of the first times she did so in her life). Gillette rolled his eyes and did as she asked. Sam stared at the fingers for a minute and soon looked to the placket of Gillette's breeches. She giggled and paid for her banana. Gillette was confused.

"What, may I ask, is so funny?" He nearly growled. Sam looked at him and then to his hand, which he was still holding up.

"Well, they say that the measurement from a man's thumb to the tip of his index finger is the same size as his… (Ahem)… _manhood_. I was curious," She shrugged and peeled her banana nonchalantly. Gillette looked at his hand and then to the placket of his breeches. He blushed slightly.

"Well… um… that's not true. Mine is much bigger I assure you why the hell and I talking about this???" Gillette clamped his hands firmly over his traitor of a mouth while Sam smiled smugly.

"Oh aye, much _bigger_. _Right_," She took a bite of her banana, over playing her motions to make Gillette blush deeper. He then looked down, to his hands this time, and saw he still had the apples. He hadn't paid for them.

'Oh well, no big deal,' He shrugged and was about to take a bite of the apple but his eyes somehow drifted to Sam's chest. Gillette looked at the apples and smiled.

"Sam, hold still for a minute," He cooed, grinning like a crocodile. Sam stopped and took another bite of her banana. Gillette smirked and held up the apples, making it so they were adjacent to her breasts. "Fancy that, almost exactly the same," It was Sam's turn to blush and she batted away the apples.

"Pig,"

"Wench,"

"Horn dog!"

"Bitch!"

"Say whatever you want, Master Gillette, because I know, deep down inside you, you want me. Oh _**god**_, do you want me!" She leaned in and breathed into his face. Gillette's cravat suddenly became very tight.

"N-no I don't. You… you're a bitch," Gillette tried to remind himself that he hated this woman but another part of him (a part of him very much _alive_ at this moment) was saying the exact opposite.

"Just kiss me," Sam whispered in a seductive tone and leaned in slightly. Gillette did the same. "Ha!" She screamed in Gillette's face, "Knew you wanted me!"

Gillette growled and slammed his palm into a stone wall.

"You… you tricked me!! Gnnah!" He crashed his head against the wall. Sam was enjoying the show, as only a proper lady would.

"Oh man, am I going to enjoy this," Sam shrugged one shoulder at Gillette and walked away, swinging her hips tauntingly. Gillette stared after her ('they're _right_ there!') and soon followed like the little lost puppy he was.

--

After many uncomfortable situations (for Gillette, at least), they got to the docks Sam had nagged about going to.

"C'mon, Andrew! I just want to see if there are any boats for sale! Ha, get it? For _sale_? Like a sail on a boat?" Sam grinned and took on a look that reminded Gillette of a painting he once saw of a lion about to devour its prey. He gulped audibly.

"No, we need to get back to the fort, not boat shopping," He started to tug on her neckerchief like Groves told him to but she didn't move.

"_Please_? My other boat got wreck in that blasted harbor of yours and I need a new one!" Sam kept pulling from his grip but Gillette just stared at her.

"You don't live here?"

"No. I don't really live anywhere, I suppose. I need a new boat so as soon as my community service hours are over I can leave," Sam cocked her head to the side and flashed a grin. Gillette seemed like he turned to stone.

"… What was your boat's name?"

"It was _Wit's End_. Silly name, I know, but it seemed fitting,"

"True enough," Gillette shrugged. He gave in and they went down to the harbor. Sam immediately (and predictably) started babbling everything she knew about boating. Gillette just zoned her out and looked at the boats.

About half an hour later, they stopped at a small boat, big enough to get some one anywhere in the Caribbean but not much farther. Gillette looked at Sam who was smiling broadly.

"I like this one. It has a good vibe," She jumped inside and looked around. It had a solid hull and two masts. There was room for food supplies and storage and a shaded area, even. Sam looked up at Gillette who was frowning steadily at the craft.

"I don't know. It looks haphazard if you ask me. I'm not sure you'd be safe in it," The boat's creator strolled up behind Gillette just as he said those scathing remarks. He glared icily.

"If ye don' want it, don' take it; but I'll be damned if I let ye talk that way bout me crafts," He growled in a dangerous tone and step forward. Gillette took a step back and fell into Sam's lap in the boat.

"We'll take it," She replied sunnily, not bothering to help Gillette up. The man nodded and took her pence, then walked away, still in a foul mood.

Gillette's eyes were still rolling around in their sockets, and it took him a while to adjust. He finally got out of his stupor and stared at the sky. It was deep blue, same as always. He sighed.

"Something wrong?" Sam asked, looking down at him. Gillette looked up at her.

"Nah, just tired," He yawned to prove his point and continued to stare at the sky above, "What do you think you'll name the boat?"

"Don't know, yet. It'll come to me. These things usually do,"

"Oh?" Gillette adjusted himself to be leaning on his elbows and strained his neck to look back at her, "What did you name your other boats?"

"Well, you know of _Wit's End_; there was also the _Singing Cardinal_, the _Golden Medallion_, the _Rosetta_, and the _Amour Errant_," Sam smiled and looked up at the clouds while Gillette kept his gaze on her.

"You've had a lot of boats. But that last one? The _Wandering Love_? Why is that name so…?"

"Sad? My father had just died while at sea and my mother couldn't take the burden of my sisters and me so she ran off, trying to find my father. We were all left to fend for ourselves. Luckily, I got by, by cutting my hair and being a cabin boy on a ship. That's where I learned about sailing. But Gillette, I'm surprised you can understand French,"

"My mother spoke French almost constantly when I was growing up. I _had_ to learn it," He shrugged. A comfortable silence past and Sam started laughing, "What's so funny?"

"This is the longest we've gone without fighting since we met each other!" Sam shook her head and continued to laugh. Gillette smiled to himself and let his body relax in Sam's lap. He suddenly felt wetness in his boots and looked to see his feet were completely submerged in the water.

"Gah!" Gillette tried to jump up but just flopped around like a fish before landing on the floor of the boat, hard. Sam stared at him for a minute then burst out laughing. Her laughter was cut off by a low rumble of far off thunder. She looked out to the horizon and saw dark storm clouds coming in.

"Oh no," She sighed. She helped Gillette up and pointed to the clouds, "Rain. It's coming in fast, too. We'd better hurry back to the fort," Gillette nodded and climbed out of the boat, stopping for a moment to help Sam out as well.

--

Running down the streets of Port Royal, they almost made it back to the fort before they were even a bit moist. _Almost_, that is.

As they made their way through the market, a strong gust of wind nearly took their feet out from under them. It didn't but it did take something else: Sam's hat.

"My hat!" She yelled, chasing after it. Gillette debated running after her, and finally gave in because "it's the right thing to do".

The hat flipped and rolled away, always alluding Sam's grasp. It finally sailed down the docks of the harbor and into the water, where it was carried out to sea.

"My **hat**!!" Sam screamed. She dove into the water and swam for the hat. Gillette was left on the docks, feeling utterly useless.

"Sam! What do you think you're doing?! You might get hurt or there could be a current!" He called out. Sam regarded him for a moment.

"It's my hat! If you're so worried about me, get in here and get my hat yourself!" She continued to swim, chasing desperately after the hat. Lightening struck the sand on the beach and a roar of thunder was immediately heard, all the time, the rain came down in merciless torrents.

"Samantha Winchell! Get back to the docks **NOW**!! I'm not going to tell you again!" Gillette screamed as loud as he could.

"Not without my hat!!" Sam shrieked as loud as she could. She finally grasped her hat and let out a loud 'whoop!' in celebration. She was swimming back to the docks when a large wave swallowed her. "Andr-" was all she got out before dragged into the undertow. Gillette screamed (very unmanly) and dove in without a second thought.

Sam was unconscious, having swallowed too much water. She floated like a ghost in the sea, dead it seemed.

Gillette swam toward her, ignoring the stinging of salt against his eyes. He looped his arm around her waist and hoisted her up to the surface, following behind.

The sea was rough and made it difficult to stay above to water's surface, the rain only made it worse. Gillette reached the top and took a deep breath of air, only to have another wave crash on top of him.

Sam was dead weight on his arms, making survival of this storm near impossible. He didn't up and was only dragged down or out of breath a few times. Gillette finally made it back to shore with Sam, but was not rid of the water. The storm raged on and lightening threatened their lives.

"Sam! Sam, wake up!" Gillette screamed. He listened for a heartbeat but didn't find any. Immediately, he began the basics of CPR that he overheard at one naval meeting. He pounded her chest, trying to replace the suffocating water with fresh air.

It didn't work. He then crashed his mouth on top of Sam's and forced the air back into her lungs. Gillette repeated the procedure until Sam shot up and coughed up water.

"Sam! Oh my lord, thank the heavens you're alright!" Gillette hugged her tight. Sam was still dizzy and confused.

"What happened?" She gasped and coughed up more water. Her eyes finally focused and she realized something was wrong, "Where's my hat?"

Gillette looked around but couldn't find Sam's prized tri-corn hat. He shrugged and helped her up to her feet.

Another crack of lightening, not far from where they were standing, came from the heavens above. Gillette grabbed Sam by the wrist and pulled her along, back into town, ignoring her demands to look for her hat.

He pulled them into a random alley, escaping the rain for now. Their clothes were completely soaked, they were cold and tired, and because of said coldness, Andrew could clearly see Sam's pert nipples through her vest. He averted his eyes, only to have them drawn back to the same spot.

"They're called breasts, genius," Sam sighed and wrung out her hair. Gillette snapped to attention.

"I _**know**_. I've _seen_ breasts before. Many times, in fact," Gillette huffed indignantly. Maybe not _many_ times but there _was_ Annabelle… and Jessica…

"Yeah sure. Now what are we going to do about my hat?"

"You and that damn hat. Why the hell is it so important? It looks like every other bloody naval hat out there; you could just steal another one! Here, take mine if it'll shut you up," Gillette shook the excess water off his hat and handed it to Sam.

"I get clingy. It's just… well, a lot of memories with that hat, you know? It's the one I wore when I first learned to sail and when a boy first told me he liked me. That didn't pan out to anything but still," Sam took Gillette's hat and inspected it from many different angles.

Gillette didn't know what to say. He never associated objects with events and never got too clingy or over protective of anything but people.

"But anyway… thanks for the hat," Sam gave Gillette a quick kiss on his cheek and displayed her new hat oh-so-proudly.

"Not a problem. I'll just ask the Commodore-" Gillette stoped when he saw the warning look in Sam's eye, "Er- I'll ask _James_ to issue me a new hat,"

"Yeah, we'll work on that friend thing. Come on, tiger, let's get back to the fort," Sam threw her arm over Gillette's shoulders and they walked back into the rain.

"We're going to get wet,"

"We're already wet, if you didn't notice. Stop being such a stick in the mud," Sam kept pulling Gillette along until he stopped suddenly, "What's wrong?"

Sam looked down and saw that Gillette was over ankle-deep in a thick mud puddle.

"Hilarious," Gillette grumbled as he realized he was seriously stuck. Sam snorted with laughter and continued to pull on Gillette's wrists.

"Looks like you're stuck pretty bad, Andy. So, I'm going to tell the gents down at the fort, we'll all have a good laugh, and then come right back here when this rain lets up, m'kay?" Sam winked and turned to march off to the fort. Gillette stood there, helpless and quite until a loud rumble of thunder snapped him out of it.

"Don't leave me here…" He practically whimpered. Sam turned slightly and smirked. She quickly turned into a store and left Gillette out in the rain to fend for himself.

About ten minutes later, Gillette was shivering and sneezing himself into a comma while still stuck in the same mud puddle. Sam emerged from the store with an umbrella and some soup.

"Didn't think I abandoned you, did you? Drink this, you're going to catch your death," Sam gave Gillette the soup and held the umbrella over his head.

"Since when the bloody hell did you care? You left me out here for ten minutes, unprotected and ankle deep in the thickest mud I've ever seen in my life!" Gillette sneezed and coughed. Sam rolled her eyes as he took a sip of the chicken broth she brought him.

"But I came back, that's _my_ point. Relax, Andy. Once this rain lets up, I'll get you straight out of this puddle, back to the fort, and convince ole Jimmy to give you the day off and let you relax in front of the fireplace in his office, what do you say?"

"What does the rain ending have to do with my getting free of this mud? If anything, the rain would make it easier to pull me out," Gillette took another swig of his soup.

"… I'm working on it, alright?"


	4. Sick

The rain stopped after both Sam and Gillette had gotten a cold. Their sneezes rang out as they padded miserably back to Fort Charles. Gillette had developed a hoarse cough and hacked up phlegm on Sam's vest.

"Tha's disgustin'," Sam sneered through her stuffed ad swollen nose. Gillette grumbled as he leaned against her for support.

They arrived at Fort Charles near sunset, both of them still coughing and sneezing themselves in a comma. Lieutenant Groves was the first to see this sorry display, and he immediately rushed over to them.

"What in bloody hell happened to you two?!" He didn't wait for a reply; he dragged them up to his office and set them in front of the fireplace where a fire was already roaring.

"You two need to change into dry clothes before you get even sicker! What were you thinking, staying out in the rain for hours on end?! Sam: you need to stay close to the fort so we can keep an eye on you! Andrew: You are a lieutenant! You should have been back here hours ago and should have been more watchful of the time! It's almost as if you two are just children running out and getting into who knows what kind of mischief!

"Honestly, I feel like I'm supposed to be your nanny! And lord, if James had seen you two stumble into the fort, clinging onto each other for dear life! You two would have been out on your arses, I'll tell you that much!" Groves continued his rant until a double sneeze cut him off. Sam and Gillette snuffled in unison, huddling close to the fire and looking up at Groves like kicked puppies. Groves sighed and rubbed his temples.

"You two… I swear," He sighed and slumped into his armchair facing the fireplace. Sam giggled until Groves shot her a nasty glare.

"Sorry…" She wheezed.

"…Camb we hab some tea?" Gillette asked pathetically. Groves nodded and went to put a pot of tea on the stove. When he left, Sam broke out into hoarse laughter. Gillette cocked his eyebrow at her.

"You sound so funneh!" She snorted but that made her hack up some mucus from the back of her throat. She spat it into the fire, where it sizzled noisily.

"That was weird," Gillette remarked as he looked around his friend's office for a blanket of some sort. He saw some in the corner and jumped up to get them. He got a head-rush and fell back down, completely disoriented.

"Whad was thad about?" Gillette merely pointed in the blankets' direction and remained lying on his back. Sam nodded but decided to stay on the floor next to the fire.

Groves returned with tea and new clothes for them to change into.

"Sorry, Sam. There weren't any women's clothes lying around so I grabbed you a man's outfit. I hope that's alright," He said apologetically as he passed her the tea.

"'S alright. I dun mind," Sam placed her tea on the ground and went to the changing screen. Her wet clothes slopped onto the ground with an audible 'squish' and she put on her new clothes, enjoying the change. She stepped out form the screen and saw Gillette was still changing and Groves' back was to him.

"Hmm. Sorry," She covered her eyes and sat down on the floor. Gillette finished changing at light-speed and sat down at the fire once more. Sam joined him while sipping her tea.

"So are you dun wit yer lecture or is dere more?" Sam asked Groves sweetly.

"I just can't understand why you two were out in the rain all day," He crossed his arms over his chest and leered down at them.

"Andy gots stuck in the mud an' couldn't moob," Sam shrugged and sipped her tea.

"Why were you two even out together? Don't you hate each other?"

"We tolerate each other," Gillette shrugged, "Camb you get thad blanket, Theo? 'M cold," He shivered to prove his point. Groves got the blankets for the two of them, and went so far as to wrap the blankets around both of them.

"Thank you, Theo!" They sang in unison, much like a room full of kindergarteners would.

James Norrington burst into Groves' office that very minute. He looked quite annoyed and shot a glare at both Sam and Gillette. The entire room tensed up.

"Where in bloody hell have you **been**?!" He screamed, his face turning beet-red. Sam cowered behind Gillette like a puppy.

"Sam tolb me to go out wit 'er…" Gillette squeaked, adverting his eyes from his commanding officer.

"Oh so that's how the fort is being run now, is it?! We shirk off our duties whenever the buggerin' hell we feel like it and it's okay as long as some _girl_ told us to do it?! Andrew Gillette, I expected better from you!!"

"Now, James… Calm down," Groves tried to place his hand on Norrington's shoulder to make him calm down, but he just batted the hand away.

"I will NOT calm down! This man, who I personally recommended for his promotion, has been off gallivanting around the town with that irresponsible little girl, who he's supposed to _hate_! It's irrational, irresponsible, naïve, idiotic, childish, barbaric, and completely STUPID!" Norrington stomped his foot on the ground, much in the same way a three-year-old would if it had been told that they could not have the toy they wanted.

Sam suddenly pictured Norrington as a little boy, screaming on the ground, kicking his arms and feet, while his father (Groves) tried to calm him down.

"_Now, James. Calm down, son," Groves suggested gently. Norrington continued to scream and cry his eyes out._

"_I wanna play wit Andwew!!" He shrieked. "That stupid giwl is taking him away fwom me!" He continued to screech as he sobbed into the carpet._

_Little Sam and Andrew were playing with a ball, laughing and smiling. Sam gave him a kiss on the cheek._

"_Bleck!" Andrew stuck his tongue out and wiped the kiss off his cheek, "You have cooties!"_

"_Do not!" Sam put her hands on her hips._

"_Do too!" Andrew stuck his tongue out at her and made a raspberry. Sam tackled him and started wrestling with him. Over in the corner, Groves was slumped over in his armchair, still trying to make James calm down._

"Weird…" Sam said to herself, after which, she sneezed suddenly, making the entire room silent.

"You have something to say, Miss Winchell?" Norrington challenged her with a dangerous tone.

"No. Nothing," She sipped her tea and stared at the ground.

"Look, James, it was a mistake! I know you've made _plenty_ of mistakes in your life. Hell, I know just about every mistake you've made, including the one when you first met me," Groves crossed his arms over his chest and smirked when Norrington froze completely. Sam and Gillette both looked up, curious as to what that mistake could have been.

"Whad mistake?" Gillette snorted and wiped his eyes.

"Well, it was back when we were in grade school together-" Norrington clamped his hands on Groves' mouth.

"You tell them, you die," He hissed. Groves removed the Commodore's hands from his mouth.

"-James was still in a bit of an awkward phase. He wasn't too comfortable with his emotions, yet. We became fast friends and he wanted to give me… well… a _present_ I guess you'd say…"

"Theodore!! Shut it!!" Norrington pleaded pathetically. Unfortunately for him, when Theodore Groves starts a story, he always finishes it.

"So he led me behind the school building, right? He said, 'You're my best friend, Theo,' which was sweet enough in itself-" Norrington pulled on the back of Groves' wig and brought him to the floor. Groves laughed and continued on with the story.

"-but then, what he did to prove our friendship caught me completely off-guard! He looked around to check if the coast was clear-"

"I'm begging you, Theodore, please stop!!"

"-and kissed me, right on my mouth!" There was an intense silence before both Sam and Gillette burst out laughing. "That's not even the best part!"

"Oh Christ, you never shut up!!" Norrington wailed.

"The headmaster came around the corner at that very moment, saw us, and sentenced us to two months of detention!" Sam and Gillette were sprawled out on the floor, laughing so hard that they couldn't breathe and were crying.

Norrington had retreated to the corner, curled up into a ball of shame.

"Wow, Norringdin, didn't know ye felt thad way bout Theo!" Sam snickered.

"Oh shut it!" He growled from his corner.

--

Gillette and Sam had fallen into an illness comma after many jokes at Norrington's expense. They laid together at the hearth of the fireplace, snuggled up in the blankets Groves had given them.

Norrington had given Gillette a few days off so he could get better, and Sam's community service hours were shortened out of pity. James reminded everyone in Fort Charles that his office was off-limits and no one but Groves and himself were allowed inside.

Sam woke up in Gillette's arms, facing his neck. She smiled to herself and snuggled closer to him, comfortable as could be. She sighed contently. Gillette was snoring lightly, facing the ceiling, and obviously dreaming.

'I wonder what he's dreaming of…' Sam thought as she watched him sleep. She guessed it was something like getting a promotion to Admiral Gillette or maybe becoming king. She smiled at that thought; he would make a weird king.

Gillette adjusted himself so he was facing Sam, still sound asleep. He was mere centimeters from her face, much to close for Sam's comfort. She tried to scoot away, but Gillette's grip on her suddenly tightened.

"Dun go…" He muttered in his sleep. "I dun wan you teh go…"

"Andrew?" Sam asked quietly.

"I dun wan you teh leave, Sam. I'll miss you…" He brought her into a hug, convinced that this was only a dream. Sam blushed at the sudden closeness, but settled for rest her head on his shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere, Andrew. Go back to sleep," She cooed softly. His expression changed from peaceful sleep to a mild nightmare.

"No! You gonna leave when dun working for the fort! I dun want you to go!" He held onto her as if she were his lifeline.

Sam was speechless. She didn't think she really meant that much to him, but here he was, hanging onto her for dear life.

"Andrew… wake up…" She nudged his shoulder gently and his eyes fluttered open. He saw how close she was but didn't move, still convinced he was dreaming.

"Morning…" He yawned and rubbed his left eye. She giggled.

"I guess we're all better, then,"

"Then, that means I don't get those two days off work," Sam laughed again and played with the tie of his cravat.

"Guess not. Why are you still wearing your wig?" She boing'd one of the curls that rested above his ears. Gillette nodded and sat up to remove his wig. He undid the pin and lifted the scratchy hairpiece away. His messy amber hair fell down and he scratched his head.

"That's better," He said as he laid back down with Sam. She began to twist one of the locks with her finger lazily. Her eyes wandered across Gillette's features, and she was surprised to find how many freckles she saw.

"I didn't know you had freckles,"

"I'm French-Irish or something like that. It's all in heritage," He shrugged. He hand began to move up and down her side, tickling her lightly. His eyes sparkled mischievously, "Kiss me, I'm Irish," Sam giggled and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Good enough for you, Mr. Leprechaun?" Gillette shook his head 'no'. Sam leaned in for another kiss, on the lips this time.

Gillette was satisfied with just a brush against his lips. He deepened the kiss just as Sam was about to pull away. She responded instantly, moving her lips slowly against his, her eyes properly closed.

"Irish I was Irish," Sam said when the kiss ended. Gillette smiled and moved a lock of hair from her eyes.

"You could be, with those green eyes,"

"They're blue, you idiot," She laughed and hit him on the shoulder. She sat up to fix her hair and saw it was almost mid-day. "We've been sleeping for a long time,"

"Yeah, but I like sleeping in. And plus, Theodore's carpet is so comfortable," He put his arms behind his head and rested there. Sam smiled at him and got up, cracking her back noisily.

"It's better than sleeping at Norrington's desk," She grunted while stretching her arms out.

Groves walked into his office urgently, muttering to himself about something. Sam whirled around to the Lieutenant, mildly annoyed.

"Excuse me, Theo! Haven't you learned to knock? I mean, we could have been having sex or something!" She put her hands on her hips in mock-outrage. Both Groves and Gillette stared at her, their mouths gaping open. "Well we could have,"

"Excuse _me_, Sam. I thought this was _my_ office, not yours. Anyway, James sent me up here to check if you two were awake, yet. You both seem to be feeling better, anyway, so why don't you get out of my office and into the fort?" Groves clasped his hands together and glared at Sam.

"Alright, fine. Come on, Andrew," Sam said as she went for the door. Gillette was still in shock from her previous comment and didn't get up. He looked at his wig sadly and went to pick it up when Groves stopped him.

"James said you had the day off, Andrew. You don't have to where your wig. Consider yourself extremely lucky," Gillette smiled and looked over at Sam.

"Alright then," He said as he stood up, "Sam, are you ready for a more proper tour of Port Royale?"

"I sure am," She smiled and went out the door with him. Groves smiled to himself when they left.

"Lucky bastard," He chuckled.


End file.
